Euphoria
by CinamonSwirls
Summary: The two of them wanted a way to deal with the trauma of the Ishvalan war, so yes they had a few spliffs and that was it. He’d stopped after the war was over and he settled down with Gracia, but Roy never gave up; he was addicted. ROY/ED LATER.


**Fuuuuuuuck. Oh my goodness, guys, I am so sorry it's been so long, I have failed you. *cry* No, but I've been revising for my GCSEs which are like.. two weeks from now holyshit. But I gave up revising to COME AND WRITE YOU A STORY AAAAH. **

**Im kinda disappointed with the second part of this chapter. I mean, I dunno. Just lemme know whatcha think. And for the love of God PLEASE review it'll make my shitty life so much better.**

**THANKS BATTYS. **

* * *

"Colonel Mustang?"

Roy sighed heavily and turned sluggishly to face the door of his office, keeping his hands hanging loosely between his knees. He coughed quietly and granted entrance to the intruder. Hughes pushed open the door, his smile wide as he stepped in. That smile quickly faded once he took in the nasty, potent smell in the room. Normally, it would have the faint whiff of tobacco in the air, a usual as Havoc often smoked in the office, but this smell was different, and one that Hughes recognised. He frowned and took a step closer to Roy, quirking an eyebrow at him; "is that a spliff?" He asked disapprovingly. Roy shrugged and lifted the weed to his mouth and inhaling deeply from the end of the bud; "I only have you to blame for this, Hughes," Roy said, his voice lower and calmer than usual. Hughes' frown became a sharp thin line as his body tense. It was, in respect, his fault. The two of them wanted a way to deal with the trauma of the Ishvalan war, so yes they had a few spliffs and that was it. He'd stopped after the war was over and he settled down with Gracia, but Roy never gave up; he was _addicted_.

"I thought we agreed that we'd have a few and that would be it? Come on Roy, the stuff's fucking with your head," the Major replied, almost desperately. The sight of his friend becoming what he was hurt him deeply. The Colonel just ignored his friend and examined the end of the spliff with vague interest. He tapped the end, letting the ashes drop into Havoc's ashtray, which Roy had retrieved from his desk drawer; "at least don't take it in the office. What if it was Hawkeye who walked in rather than me?"

"I'm not that stupid, Hughes," Roy rested his head in his hand as he fiddled with the weed between his fore and middle finger, "I usually take it after everyone's dismissed for lunch if I _really_ needed one during the day. And my _God_, Hughes you don't understand how happy I am; just for a few hours every other day I'm in my own personal bubble of happiness. You don't know what I would give up to have this more often," Mustang mumbled, staring at his drug lovingly before he inhaled another big breath. Hughes had had enough. He threw the paperwork on Mustang's desk and promptly left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Normally, Mustang would have felt bad, for upsetting his best friend; but right now his mind was thickly clouded with the warm, relaxed feeling he now felt. His words were true, though, he would give up pretty much anything to get even a small something to relax his nerves and blur his mind for even a few moments; just so he could escape the pain that the war had caused him.

Roy was lucky that he finished his spliff quickly and had chosen not to have another one, leaving him time to open the window and let the potent air ventilate a good half an hour before he saw Hawkeye make her way back into the building. His body ached for more of the wonderful substance, but he swallowed and suppressed the feeling, distracting himself with the paperwork on his desk. He was also glad that he'd chosen to mix it with tobacco he found in Havoc's drawer, so it would leave a similar smell on his clothes; which he could blame Havoc for, if asked.

Hawkeye opened the door and eyed the Colonel. Usually when she came back from lunch breaks the Colonel was doing something other than his paperwork, like obsessively cleaning the windows or reading. What confused her the most was Mustang's, almost chilling, smile. He _never_ smiled while he was doing paperwork. He let out a small giggle, bit his lip and continued to stare at the piece of paper in front of him. Hawkeye glared at Mustang from the corner of her eye; something was up.

"Something funny, Colonel?" she asked, taking a seat at her desk. The Colonel didn't reply for a moment, until he looked up, his mouth gaping sluggishly. He quickly shut his mouth and blinked at Hawkeye.

"Sorry, I was just thinking of something" he replied, grinning and looking back at his paperwork.

* * *

"2nd Lieutenant Havoc?" Edward asked, poking his head through the door into the office. Havoc looked up, a cigarette hanging in his mouth as normal. He smiled and beckoned Ed to enter.

"Here to give the Colonel a report?" the 2nd Lieutenant looked down at the paper work, after gesturing to a chair. Ed took a seat and threw his documented report onto the desk, taking a deep sigh.

"Yeah," he rubbed his eyes, "the Colonel's gonna go on a fucking rage when he finds out what I did." He whined, sinking further into his seat.

Havoc glanced over to the young alchemist; "what did you do this time?" he asked, chuckling under his breath. Edward looked back over to Havoc and raised an eyebrow.

"Youswell's forest has seen better days," he huffed, "It couldn't be helped though; Russell just needs to watch his mouth."

Before Havoc could reply, there was a gentle knock at the door. Havoc beckoned them in, and Sheska opened the door slowly, saluting the 2nd Lieutenant; "Sorry to bother you, sir, but there have been several complaints from neighbouring offices and the room directly above you, concerning the rather potent, smoky smell recently. If it gets any worse, or doesn't improve, some of the higher ups are threatening to have you suspended, as this is a smoking free zone anyway." She explained quickly, her expression almost apologetic.

"That's odd. I barely smoke inside anymore," Havoc mumbled, then looked up at Sheska, "let them know I will be more careful in future, and keep the cigarettes outside," he smiled, and dismissed the girl.

"I have to admit, the smell has changed in here," Ed remarked, just as the door closed. Havoc didn't say anything, only walked over to the bin by Mustang's desk and took a look inside. It was riddled with buds from cigarettes that were clearly not bought from packets, "What is it?" Ed asked. Havoc picked up the bin and tipped it sideways, showing Edward the contents.

"Either I can't remember this, or something's up with Mustang." He sighed, placing the bin back down and taking his seat at his desk. Just then, the door swung open, and Mustang stepped in. Havoc stood and saluted his superior.

"At ease, Havoc," he said, walking over to his seat, "Fullmetal?" he eyed up his subordinate as he took a seat.

"I'm here for my report, Mustang," the boy replied, snatching the report from the table and walking steadily over to Mustang's desk. His eyebrows were drawn into a sharp 'V' in the middle of his head as he glared at Mustang, with almost concern. _Was_ Mustang smoking? And if so, has it been a long term thing that's gotten steadily worse, or did something pop up that made him start? Edward was watching Mustang as he scanned over the document. The Colonel's eyes squinted as he read the paper.

"I'll read it later," Mustang finally said, placing the report to the side of his desk and looked up at Ed. The younger alchemist was twice as concerned now; usually Mustang would look for the main faults with Edward's methods, but now it seemed like Mustang could barely read the paper in front of him.

"Whatever, I'll come back later when you've read it," Edward saluted half-heartedly and turned to leave the room.

Havoc nodded to Edward as he left, but kept his eyes on the Colonel; "Sir, our neighbouring rooms are complaining about the smoky smell coming from this room," he began. Mustang rolled his eyes and gave Havoc a condescending look.

"Clearly you've been smoking too much in this room. Put that cigarette out, Havoc," Mustang snorted, as if it was the most obvious thing. Havoc did as he was told, but continued to glare at his superior.

"Sir, I've been smoking outside much more recently, for exactly those reasons."

"Obviously not as much as you thought," Mustang retorted, pretending to read his paperwork.

"Then explain the roll buds in your bin."

Mustang was silent. His hand clenched uncomfortably, and he bit awkwardly at the inside of his lip. He was okay with his best friend, Hughes, knowing about this, but now that Havoc had suspicions, then so could Hawkeye, as she was smarter than Havoc, after all. He might not have been high at that moment, but he knew that some of the medical affects were beginning to show. He couldn't even concentrate on Fullmetal's report for more than a few seconds without having trouble reading. Fullmetal didn't know much about drugs, and wasn't in his office as much so he didn't have to worry about him finding out. Heaven knows what he would do if Fullmetal found out.

He finally looked up at Havoc, but only for a second. He cleared his throat, "it… don't let this concern you, 2nd Lieutenant." He muttered.

"Sir, with all due respect-"

"Know your place, Havoc." Mustang snapped, glaring at his subordinate. Havoc didn't reply for a moment, only turned back to his paper work. Mustang leaned down and snapped his fingers, incinerating the contents of the bin, to assure that no-one else would figure out about this.

A moment passed, as Mustang tried desperately to get his head around the complicated paperwork, "would you like me to take some of that?" Havoc asked, sighing.

Mustang rubbed his face. He didn't want to admit that this was ruining him. He didn't care… he couldn't care. The drugs made him feel so much better and relieved the pain and stress that the military put on him. He didn't want to admit defeat, so shook his head and continued to read the paper work at an impossible slowness. He took solace in the fact that, at the end of the day, once everyone had gone home, he could have more, and make all of this go away.

* * *

**FML that kinda sucked. Sucked donkey balls. But, no, please lemme know what I can do to please you WANKERS. Joking I love you, you're not wankers. **


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